


There is infinity in numbered days

by MadHattie



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene(s), Spoilers for pretty much all of c/w, i made myself sad writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 12:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12817125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadHattie/pseuds/MadHattie
Summary: Four years is a long time, even for a robot, a couple of divines, and a reclusive scientist.Or, what happened on September.





	There is infinity in numbered days

(0)

 

The world splinters out in stained glass and there is no pattern there, just hundreds of voices screaming in color, and then the door closes. Both doors close, Voice’s with a sound like shattering glass, and Detachment's with no sound at all. Rigour reaches towards the blank ceiling of the sky and screams its refrigerator hum.

  
AuDy releases their grip on Detachment's controls and all of them, AuDy and Detachment and Liberty and Discovery collapse onto the snow-covered ground. _This is how it needed to be,_ they think to themselves as the Kingdom Come disappears from sight. _This is how we keep people safe._

 

 

(3)

 

The people of September swarm around Rigour's fallen form like flies to a corpse.  
Humans do not change, AuDy thinks, memories of a lumber planet thousands of years behind them surfacing from Liberty and Discovery’s databanks. This disappointment is familiar. 

(Somewhere in the back of their mind a series of images flicker. Mako's bright, faraway grin as he successfully fogs a system. Aria getting a clean shot on an enemy and giving a little cheer of delight. Cass saving the life of someone bleeding out on their table, their steady hands working tirelessly until the patient is stable.  
They push the memories aside. There are always outliers in any data set.)

 

 

(7.3)

 

The snow refuses to stop. It piles and piles, softening the edges of the messy mesh-designed buildings with heaps of white. AuDy wonders how the sky can have any snow left in it, because all of it seems to be on this street that they’re trying to make their way down.

A girl with Mako's smile, Maritime Lapel’s graceful hands, and Maryland's dark brown eyes builds a snowman with eyes made of sea-smoothed pebbles. It smiles benignly out to the street with a drawn-on smile. From inside the nearest building a nearly identical girl, just slightly older, takes the younger’s hand and pulls her back inside, scolding. The younger girl looks up at AuDy and stares, curious. AuDy gives a hesitant wave and the girl grins, too familiar.  


 

(11)

 

Eventually they give up trying to avoid it and decide to hole up in Maryland’s cabin.

 

They don’t need to sleep, so it’s less about finding somewhere to rest their head, and more about having a place to come back to. For a long time that was the Kingdom Come, or Orth’s office, or Cene’s lab, or any of the rest of the Chime’s apartments, but those were out of reach.

 

Plus, they need a place to keep their stuff.

 

Maryland answers the door slowly when they knock, her hair hanging loose and messy around her shoulders, still wearing flannel pants and a loose t-shirt. She leans against a slim metal cane that AuDy hasn’t seen before.

 

“Y’know, I thought you might show up here, but I wasn’t expecting it to be this early in the morning.” She chokes back a yawn.

 

“By my internal clock it is ten in the morning. Most would not consider that to be early.”

 

“Yeah, well, I had a late night, and the sun’s not setting, so excuse me if I don’t keep a normal schedule.” Maryland squints at the light reflecting off of the snow. “Are you going to come in or what? My space heater’s good, but it’s not that good.”

 

They step forward, wiping their wet feet on the mat. Maryland closes the door behind them, just a little too quickly to be casual. She turns a physical lock and swipes through the air, tangling what is left of the mesh into a veil.

 

“Detachment is in the warehouse in the back. I’m not sure how they knew to come here after the door closed, but it’s good that they did. They’ve been pretty quiet since then.” She moves aside a lamp and presses her hand to the wall. A portion of it lights up and slides aside, revealing a large open space lit by harsh florescent light. “This is where the Apokine was stored. There’s a smaller room in the back that I use as a greenhouse. That’s where I saw Detachment last, if you want to go say hi. I don’t know if you’re friends, or what.”

 

“I killed their last candidate.”

 

“Fuck, okay.” Maryland drags a hand down her face. “Fine. Do whatever. I’m going to go make breakfast.”  
She turns on her heel and leaves AuDy alone in the empty room.

 

They don’t go to see Detachment. Not yet, at least.

 

 

(22.6)

 

There is a birch tree at the edge of Maryland's garden, right where the tilled earth gives way to forest. Its bark peels off in white curls and its leaves are withered and pale from the cold, like ghosts of their former selves. AuDy remembers how birch wood feels under the blade of a saw.

 

No, it's not AuDy that remembers, it's Liberty and Discovery. They sometimes forget that they need to distinguish between memories now. AuDy has 10 years of memories stored. Liberty and Discovery have 80,000, minus those 10. Sometimes it's overwhelming how much they remember. Sometimes AuDy feels incidental in comparison, a consciousness formed by accident. Liberty and Discovery went to sleep and AuDy was a thing they dreamed. Or no, that amount of time wasn’t even enough to be called a sleep. Those years were the blink of an eye and AuDy was the afterimage on the inside of the eyelid.

 

There is a tiny seedling sprouting up from between the roots of the birch, no more than two leaves on a twig poking out of the snow. If the cold doesn’t kill it, competition with its mother tree might.

Sometimes the words of their one and only candidate come back to them.

AuDy digs the tiny thing up with careful fingers, trying not to rip it away from its roots. They bring it into the greenhouse, past the quiet form of Detachment, and put it in a large terracotta pot. They fill the pot with black soil from a big bag near the door and pat it down so that the tree stays secure.

Cultivate saplings.

 

 

(42.97)

 

The cabin is quiet in a way that The Kingdom Come never was.

 

It’s not just that the inhabitants barely talk to each other, although that’s certainly part of it. Maryland spends long hours with her research, typing until her hands cramp up and her shoulders hunch. She jokes sometimes that the cold isn’t good for her old joints, but overworking herself certainly isn’t helping. She’s trying to find a solution to Rigour while its hum keeps her up late at night.

 

Detachment doesn’t stray much from the empty hangar that once held Apokine. They’re used to long hours in space at high velocity, but they’re missing their component parts: four satellites and a candidate. All in all, they’re not much of a conversationalist.

 

AuDy tends to the garden. It’s the only thing that they can think to do. Most of the plants in the outdoor plot don’t fair well in the cycling snowstorm, so they harvest what they can and move the more healthy ones to the greenhouse. Dirt finds its way into the joints of their fingers as they dig up potatoes, but there’s something satisfying about knowing that the things they grow will one day bear fruit.

 

Sometimes while they work they find themself humming an old Aria Joie song. If Maryland and Detachment notice, they don’t mention it.

 

 

(70)

 

“I don’t regret it, you know.” Maryland gestures towards the blocky form of the campus in the distance. Her work is draining her, enough that she had to ask AuDy to push her wheelchair out to the shore. “The school, the strati. Even Voice. It was all important work, and I was proud to do it.”

 

AuDy watches the waves roll back and forth. “Your creation of clones and development of a false reality for them to live in was a major breach of scientific ethics. I am not involved in any kind of scientific work, and I still know this.”

 

“I know.”

 

They turn towards Maryland. "I dislike you immensely."

She laughs. "Yeah, I can understand that. There's a lot about me to hate, and a lot of free time here to let that hate simmer. You don’t have to stay in my house if you don’t want to, you know. I don’t really need the company."

"You misunderstand me." AuDy tries to look her in the eyes as best they can without having eyes of their own. "I dislike you, but that will not stop me from working with you if need be. I- Liberty and Discovery have been conscious for more that 80,000 years. In that time we have learned that it is useless to hold grudges." They turn away again and look out to where the sea and the storm blend into the walls of their cage. "In addition, I know that Ibex was fond of you, and despite his many flaws, he is very good at finding useful people."

"Useful, huh?" She laughs without humor. "If that's how he saw me, I guess I'm glad we parted ways."

"He saw you in many different ways." AuDy stood quietly until a long stare from Maryland prompted them to continue. "Liberty and Discovery have always been close with Righteousness. Knowing their candidate is just an extension of that."

They extend their hand out just in time to catch a fat snowflake on their palm. The cold metal lets it stay solid, and they can see how it forms a perfect tiny octagon, a side effect of the heaviness of the rain here probably. If they thought it would make any difference, they would research what made the water here act that way. Instead, they let their hand fall

"Most of the time when Ibex talked about you, he discussed you as if you were the smartest woman that he had ever met. I do not know how much of that opinion was tainted by his affection for you. Given that he is human, I assume that a fair number of his judgements were influenced by his emotions.”

“And yours aren't?” Maryland's smile twists and pulls at the corner of her mouth. 

“That is not what I said.” AuDy pulls Maryland's wheelchair away from the boardwalk and starts the journey back towards the warehouse in the woods. “I just wanted to say that Ibex does not always act logically. Even so, I still have some faith in his judgement.”

Maryland snorts. “Alright then. C'mon dynamic duo, let's pick up the pace so I don't freeze to death before you can use me.”

“You are very good at misinterpreting my intentions.”

“It's the human thing to do.”

 

 

(101.111)

 

“Tell me everything you know about Rigour.”

 

AuDy looks up from the plant that they are repotting. Maryland’s eyes are sunken and bloodshot from lack of sleep, and she leans on her cane as if it’s the only thing keeping her upright. “I know many things about Rigour. What exactly do you want to know?”

 

“Everything.”

 

“That is too many things. I have 80,000 years of memory stored. You would die before I could finish telling you everything I know about Rigour.”

 

“So give me the abridged version. I need to feel like I’m solving some kind of problem while I’m trapped on this planet, and that one’s staring me right in the face.”

 

AuDy sighs, a useless, human thing to do, but effective all the same. “It is unlikely that you will be able to solve the problem of Rigour with the information that I am able to give you. Many have tried before, and the only effective methods so far have involved blowing up entire star sectors, which I suspect you have neither the desire, not the resources to do.”

 

“Well I might as well try!”  Maryland shakes her head. “Goddamnit AuDy, what’s the point of pessimism? Don’t you want to take that thing down?”

 

AuDy brushes the loose dirt off of the table and sets the plant in its pot back under the grow light. “I have come to realize that sometimes it is better to be realistic than to be disappointed.” They turn the plant just so, making sure that each of the leaves are getting an equal amount of light. “You have not realized this yet. I will tell you what you want to know, so that you can figure it out on your own.”

 

Maryland grins. “You could’ve just said that outright, you asshole.”  


 

(181)

 

AuDy rarely leaves the cabin for long.

 

The streets are filled with humming.

 

 

(235.8)

 

“You don't have to do this”

Maryland pauses in her welding and flips her goggles up.

“Is this your way of saying that you don’t want a replacement arm? Because if you don’t, there are a bunch of other things I could be doing right now.”

“No.” AuDy pauses. “You are correct in saying that there are other things that you could be doing. I can function with only one arm.”

“Yeah, well, you can function a lot better with two.” Maryland brushes back the hairs that are starting to escape from her bun. “Listen AuDy, this may come as a surprise, but I actually like you. You're one of the few people I trust on this godsforsaken rock. So if I want to build a cool robot arm in my free time, then I’m going to build it. It’s up to you to take it or leave it.” 

She flips her goggles back down and fires her blowtorch back up.

“Thank you,” AuDy says, too quiet for her to hear.

 

  
(308.3)

 

Detachment is quiet. They always have been, but without a candidate it seems like they no longer feel the need to get involved. They spend days at a time perched up in the rafters of the warehouse, just watching. Sometimes they disappear for a week or two, usually when the storm outside is quiet. Once or twice AuDy thinks they see Detachment cut through the sky, a black blur against gray and yellow clouds. But the sky is not a frontier, it is a ceiling. Sooner or later, Detachment always comes back to their perch.

 

 

(399.9)

 

“So have Liberty and Discovery ever been apart?” Maryland leans forward over a bowl of the same rehydrated curry she’s eaten for dinner the past three nights. Years of hiding from the Institute means that she has a large stockpile of rations, but it turns out that there are only so many things that you can freeze-dry. “I know you two prefer to stay together, but were you created together? Have you always stayed together? Sorry if it’s weird that I’m asking this, but we’ve been here for more than a year, and I still feel like I don’t know you.”

 

AuDy sits at the table across from Maryland, more of a formality than a necessity. They don’t need to eat or sit, there’s just a familiarity to acting along with humans. They stay silent for a moment while Maryland shoves another spoonful in her mouth.

 

“When Mako found out what I was, he asked similar questions.”

 

“Huh.” Maryland rests her chin in her hands.

 

“Liberty and Discovery were created together. We were a navigation system that was given a task beyond our original programming, and in doing so we gained sentience. We have never been apart.”

 

“Could you though?” Maryland asked. “I mean, could you separate if you wanted to?”

 

“We have not considered this.” They are quiet for a long time. Maryland takes another bite of her food. “Upon analysis of our databanks, we have determined that it would be feasible for us to exist separate from each other. However, this would inevitably result in us needing to either take on candidates, or bond with another Divine. Neither of us find these possibilities appealing, so it is likely that we will continue to stay together.”

 

“What’s so bad about bonding with another Divine? Don’t you two like Righteousness? You could bond with them.” Maryland tilts her head like she’s doing some mental calculations.

 

“Righteousness is… a friend.” For the first time,  Liberty and Discovery move in their seat, shifting just slightly. “However, bonding with them would be unappealing. Our goals are very different, and the conflict those differences would create would negate any benefits of the partnership.”

 

“So Righteousness isn’t your type.” Maryland laughs. “What about a candidate? What’s so bad about that?”

 

“We had a candidate once.” Liberty and Discovery’s voices shift by just a second, one echoing the other. “He was a disappointment. We have no need for a candidate anymore.”

 

 

(480)

 

Voice sings along to Rigour’s hum, a melody and a harmony that blend together in a song that sounds like the wind.

 

 

(566)

 

There is a clone leading the construction on Rigour. AuDy sees her sometimes, when they wander through what is left of the city. She isn’t like most of the clones; her resemblance to the original isn't just a passing familiarity, like looking at a sibling or a cousin. Instead looking at her is like looking at an old photo of someone you never knew when you were young. She is Maryland in her glory days, dark brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her face is severe and focused, the intensity of her concentration pinching lines into her forehead.

 

Maryland has laugh lines in the corners of her eyes. AuDy resolves not to tell her what they saw.

 

 

(700.01)

 

There are people in their woods.

 

People have shown up occasionally before, to wander or collect wood or just get away from the city for a bit. When they do, they don’t tend to drift towards the cabin, as far as it is from everything else.

 

These people though, they move with a purpose. Small maintenance riggers eat away at the edge of the woods in a straight line, turning trees into piles of woodchips, which other machines come in and sweep up. Off in the distance, there are fires climbing high into the atmosphere.

 

All of it feels too familiar. Liberty and Discovery do not like to see forests being cleared away.

 

_There is the birch, there is the cedar tree…_

 

(703.333)

 

“We need to put up defenses.”

 

Maryland and AuDy stand on the roof of the cabin, watching as Rigour’s machines break down the forest and carry it away in pieces. AuDy had to carry her up there- Maryland’s legs are too stiff to navigate the stairs easily.

 

“For a single stupid second I thought they were just getting supplies so that they could survive, but they’re not.” Maryland sighs, drags a hand through her hair, and points out to where the September Institute sits at the edge of the sea. “Look.” Around the body of Rigour, streams of industrial smoke rise up into the air.

 

“Do you have a plan?” AuDy’s mind flashes to Cassander, hunched over their tablet, trying to prepare for every single outcome they could think of.

 

“Do I look like I have a plan?” Maryland says, exasperated.

 

AuDy remains silent, no emotion showing on their not-face.

 

“No, I don’t have a plan. When I came out here, I thought my biggest problem would be Twelfth trying to find me. This place is extremely well-protected against mesh attacks and strati, but there are barely any physical defenses.”

 

“Do you think those riggers are connected to the mesh?” Liberty and Discovery’s processors are running at full speed. Cass would be proud that they're actually stopping to plan.

 

“Probably.” Maryland looks over at them in confusion. “If not, they’re at least connected to Voice.”

 

“Could you assist me in integrating with that mesh? I am still unused to being online.”

 

“I can as long as you tell me what you’re planning.”

 

“Something I learned a long time ago,” AuDy says as they turn their back to the encroaching figures, “is that logging and construction riggers often have parameters for where they can operate. If I am successful, I will be able to restrict their range of motion so that they cannot move within a certain distance of the building.

 

“Well shit metal wonder, let’s get you online.”

 

 

(703.9)

 

They set the perimeter a mile in every direction of the cabin. It wasn’t hard. They used to be a navigation system, after all.

 

The riggers circle and move on, too intent in their task to notice that they’re being diverted.

 

 

(742)

 

“I’ve been speaking with Detachment,” Maryland says as she hands AuDy another pot. They’ve been working on moving things into bigger containers for the past week. The little birch sapling they took from the yard is nearly as tall as they are now.

 

AuDy does not respond. They gently ease a tomato plant out of its pot.

 

“They won’t be fully functioning until they can get new satellites, but they’ve said that they would benefit from having a candidate to pilot them.”

 

“What would that accomplish?” AuDy says, trying to keep their voice as level as possible.

 

“Rigour isn’t bothering us now, but it’s clear that it’s doing something. We’ve known ever since its followers came into the forest that it has some kind of plan. If it makes a move, I want to be able to fight.”

 

AuDy stops. They put down their plants and turn to face Maryland. It’s a meaningless gesture, but they have learned that humans often rely on the meaningless to make sense of their lives. Maryland does not look back. She keeps her hands curled into fists and her back rigid in the chair that AuDy brought in for her.

 

“The partnership between a Divine and a Candidate takes an immense physical toll. Candidates are often chosen young because they still have so much life left in them. Even then, they die early and easily. The only reason Ibex has lasted as long as he has is because he is incredibly stubborn, and because he has built a number of androids to do tasks for him. He will still die much earlier than the average human. He was young and healthy when he first became a candidate. I do not know what would happen if you were to partner with Detachment, but I suspect that it would exacerbate all of your current physical issues. It is likely that you would die soon after.”

 

“We’ll all die anyway if we let Rigour continue on with whatever it’s doing.” Maryland shakes her head. “Fucking hell, AuDy, we have to at least _try_.”

 

“I will not stop you from doing this,” AuDy says, turning back to their work, “I will only tell you that it is a bad idea.”

 

“Oh, I know, but it’s the best idea we’ve got.”

 

AuDy does not watch as Maryland walks away.

 

 

(817)

 

Their conversations with Maryland have become shorter and shorter. AuDy spends their time in the greenhouse, or walking around the perimeter of their small patch of forest. Maryland studies for long hours, reading everything she can find on divines and military strategy, on Rigour. She sits with Detachment sometimes, not talking, just being in each other’s presence. The two have not flown yet, but AuDy wonders if it is only a matter of time. After all, most Divines were made to need a candidate.

 

 

(876.23)

 

The silhouette of Detachment looks like a falcon against the sky. They swoop and curve so high up that sometimes they seem to disappear from view. AuDy tenses as they fly near the camp where Rigour’s people work day and night, but before any of them can take action, Detachment is already a mile away, zig-zagging to avoid potential projectiles.

 

They look joyful, like they’re dancing.

 

AuDy doesn’t watch long enough to see them land.

 

 

(958)

 

“AuDy, can you help me up?” Maryland reaches out from where she’s seated in front of her monitors. “These old bones don’t want to cooperate with me today.”

 

AuDy crosses the room and offers her a hand. “Should I go get your wheelchair?”

 

“No, no,” she says as she grips tightly to their arm, “I don’t want to rely on it too much.” She grabs her cane from where it leans against her desk.

 

“Needing assistance is not a weakness.” AuDy keeps their voice soft. Humans can be stubborn about this kind of thing, and Maryland is no exception. “Bodily deterioration is expected from the stresses that you are putting yourself through. Use of mobility devices will only help you.”

 

Maryland sighs and collapses into AuDy’s frame just a bit. “Fine. You’re right. But don’t tell anyone I said that.”

 

“I will make sure to keep it a secret from the thousands of people who are not here.”

 

“Haha, very funny bud.” She bats at AuDy with a fake punch. “C’mon, get me to the kitchen. I need to eat.”

 

 

(1111.11)

 

The humming is loud, but sometimes they can’t even hear it.

 

It blends in the the sounds of the world, the creak of the trees in the face of the storm, the waves that batter the shore, the chatter of the people who are rigorous enough to remain. Sometimes it sounds loud from the body crumpled in the middle of the city, sometimes it seems to come from everywhere at once.

 

Rigour has a Voice, and it calls out to the people of September.

 

It calls out to AuDy, but they hum their own songs to block it out. Songs about explosions and June. Songs about all the different trees that there are.

 

It calls out to Detachment, who has never liked to listen to the other Divines.

 

It calls out to Maryland, who engineered it to call in the first place, but she has outgrown her creation. She listens to the song that the wind sings as she and Detachment fly loops around their tiny world.

 

 

(1304)

 

All songs have an end.

 

Maryland spends long days swooping down at Rigour’s troops, taking out a few machines at a time before flying back home to safety. Rigour fights back, but like a human swatting at a fly. She is not a big enough threat to be hunted down, just enough of a pest to be swatted at.

 

Her flights get shorter and shorter. She sleeps later than she ever has before.

 

On the last day she wakes up, the strange sun of September colors the room in orange and gold.

 

She makes it to her computer, but her hands shake too much to type. She takes a deep rattling breath and leans back in her chair.

 

“Hey AuDy, can you come help me with something?” She beckons, and then winces at the movement.

 

AuDy is at her elbow in a second. “What do you need?”

 

“I’m trying to finish a letter.” Her voice shakes and catches. “He probably won’t ever see it, but it’s the thought that counts, y’know? And I really just need to get this out.”

 

AuDy pulls the keyboard towards themself. “Who is it for?”

 

“It’s for Attar.” She sighs. “I just… just write that I’m sorry for everything that happened, and that I still love him, even now. That’s all.”

 

Maryland slumps into AuDy’s side, pressing her face into the cool metal of their chassis as they type. It doesn’t take them long.

 

“Do you want me to try to send it?” they ask.

 

“No,” she shakes her head “no, there’s no point. It’s not gonna get through. Save it though. Maybe someday someone will look back on it and laugh.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I’m tired AuDy.” From where she sits at their side, Maryland looks small. “Can you help me get to bed?”

 

“Of course.”

 

 

(1305.07)

 

When Maryland takes her last breath they bury her in the garden, among dead marigolds, near a rose bush they have never seen bloom. It seems right to let her rest near the things she loved most.

 

Human lives are short in the eyes of divines, but this one was even shorter than most, shorter than it should have been. She had been young when she loved a man named Attar Rose, and when he gave himself over to Righteousness, she put more and more of herself into her work, sometimes literally. When the snows came and the doors closed there was hardly anything left, and then Detachment took the rest away.

 

It is AuDy’s idea to make a headstone. Their years on Counterweight have made them sentimental, and so they walk through the wreckage that Rigour’s machines left behind until they find a large piece of sandstone jutting out of the snow.

 

What they put on it isn’t much: a name, shared by the planet and the school. A death date, no birth date known. It’s better than they will get when the end finally comes. They place the stone where her head should be and do not walk that way again.

 

 

 

(1463)

 

Detachment reaches out like a child missing their parent. It doesn’t matter that they lived without Jerboa for more than a year before they bonded with Maryland: it is in the nature of Divines to need Candidates.

 

Detachment misses her in their strange, detached way, and AuDy doesn’t know what to do about it, so they do nothing. They leave them to sit, hollow and empty like an abandoned cicada shell.

 

 

(1600.001)

 

They both want to leave. They both need to stay. The choice between want and need pushes them apart as if the magnetic force that kept them together suddenly flipped.

 

It isn't often that Liberty and Discovery disagree. They have always been separate beings, but they have always been inseparable, so much so that people wonder if they are really two, or just one being with two voices. But the two voices are disagreeing now, each convinced in their own way.

 

Liberty itches to break free from their cage, an urge so intense that if they were flesh instead of metal they would scream until their throat closed and claw their fingers bloody against invisible bars.

 

Discovery longs for new frontiers, but they can find new things to entertain themself even in this tiny space. They still remember how the light from the stellar combustors lingered for centuries, a reminder of all they did and could not do to stop the thing they now have trapped.

 

The two of them look up at the sky and for the first time in a long time they see different things.

 

 

(1641.5)

 

When Liberty and Discovery open a door, it is a door.

 

When Liberty opens a door, it is an open archway, no barrier to hold them back.

 

As soon as it happens Liberty flees into Detachment: their final friend, the one who opened the door when they knocked. Detachment is numb, too far away to care when Liberty kicks them out of their body and flies up higher than they ever could, out through a door towards freedom.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Air for editing this and also for getting me into this podcast which periodically makes me cry.  
> In my head Maryland is played by Sigourney Weaver and this may explain some things


End file.
